Genesis
Wind & Wuthering

THE REVIEW

Two albums in the same year, a very rare event these days, and generally these are commercial endeavors: you have to strike while the iron of popularity of "new discoveries" is hot (and it usually doesn't last long). In 1976, Genesis still had such an excess of creativity that it not only allowed them to brilliantly overcome the departure of Peter Gabriel with a masterpiece ("A Trick Of the Tail") but to deliver another one in the short term. Too bad it was their swan song: the departure of the shy, bespectacled guitarist Steve Hackett would be far more traumatic than that of the theatrical and charismatic Peter, and it was then that the inexorable decline would begin.
But "Wind And Wuthering" is a beautiful album, which from start to finish provides typically autumnal and twilight sensations. The ideal time for listening in harmony with the moods that the rhythm of the seasons provokes in us (or at least in the most sensitive ones) is therefore approaching. It is clear that even in other months we are not denied the understanding of its serenely melancholic atmosphere, but it is certainly easier in autumn.

Saying "serenely melancholic" I have practically already said Tony Banks: here we truly are in his realm. Almost all of the most representative tracks are his compositions, but even in the others, his unmistakable touch is always present. Given these premises, it can easily be deduced that the album is almost entirely made up of slow tracks, or at the limit typical Banksian slow tracks, with powerful symphonic surges.
The 9 minutes of "One For the Vine" are exemplary: from the subdued and sad beginning to the final instrumental of rare intensity, it's hard to remain indifferent. Tears are lurking even in the poignant finale of "All In A Mouse's Night" (but even the rest is worth something!). "Afterglow" is absolutely one of Genesis' most inspired compositions, entirely built on the preparation for a majestic and "choral" finale: in this case, the label of "symphonic rock" (what a bastard expression!) seems truly appropriate. The only thing that has never convinced me is its placement at the end of the album, after a long and powerful "orchestral" interlude (Unquiet Slumbers For the Sleepers...In That Quiet Earth) that almost isolates it. Trifles: the substance remains, and it's plenty.
Even those who managed not to be moved until "Blood On the Rooftops" will find it difficult to resist this masterpiece, due to the unusual Collins-Hackett duo (Phil Collins didn’t just make little pop songs). Introduced by the clear classical guitar of Steve Hackett, it reaches its peak in the central motif, of a desperation so intense it moves boulders.
Even the only fast track, "Eleventh Earl of Mar," features a beautiful enchanted and fairy-tale pause. Hardly anything ordinary: just "Your Own Special Way," sweet and simple, the first compositional attempt by Mike Rutherford, unsurprisingly the least creative of them.

Once again, then, a masterpiece stamped Genesis, but with this, the incredible series ends. This time for real.